“Hey fellers! Who wants to go swimmin with me?”

Hey folks. So anyhow. I took my Red Bank basketball teams to summer camp at Tennessee Tech, for several years. We had just won the county championship the past season. So, I ignorantly expected to continue to win most games. Guess what? Sometimes, you just got what you got. The first couple of games at camp, we got waxed, pounded, shellacked, wiped out, our butts handed to us. You get the idea.

I got the guys together in our dorm. Now, the Tennessee Tech on campus dorms back in the mid to late 1990’s were a joke. Hideous looking brick buildings, with cinder block dorm rooms. The guys referred to them as “the jail cells.” There was a lounge area in the middle of two sections of dorm rooms. We were at one end and another team on the other side. I can’t remember where the team was from anymore.

Me: Guys, let’s just not worry about winning or losing. Just enjoy the moment, play hard and have fun. 

We have a couple of hours before our next game. We just got back from lunch and Kevin “Trip” Taylor had a few helping of beans. 

One day at practice, the ball goes out of bounds. Kevin goes to get it and falls into the volleyball net that was lying on the floor. As he gets up, he gets his foot tangled in the net and goes down hard! The guys erupt.

Me: Hey! Way to go Trip! Yeah, that’s your name now.

I’m in my room resting and Will comes in.

 Will: Hey Coach. Everybody is in Kevin’s room. He wants to show you something.

Well, I thought, these clowns are going to pull a trick on me. So, I follow along. I go in and they all start laughing. Kevin shuts the door and there’s a long mirror on the inside of the door. 

Kevin: Coach, I got something to show you, but it will take a minute or two. 

So, I’m sitting there looking at this group of nut jobs giggling. Without warning, Kevin drops the back of his shorts, puts his butt cheeks up to the mirror and lets out a fart that, even I, admired. He moves away and there’s a perfect fogged up image of his butt crack on the mirror!

Yep! We are having fun for sure!

By the time we all recovered from Kevin‘s beautiful artwork, I realized the guys are taking their fun part of my speech to heart. I walk out into the dorm lobby and one of the other teams is sitting around having pizza. I figured we would have a little fun with this.

I go back to the dorm and find Jimmy “Stinky” Benedict in his room. I give a lot of my guys nicknames for one reason or another. Do I have to explain why Jimmy is called Stinky? Jimmy is afflicted with a disease called “intestinal fartitude.” No, I didn’t say intestinal fortitude. What is that anyway? You hear a guy being described for his bravery or courage. Yes, my friend, Mr. Bean showed a lot of intestinal fortitude out there today. I got news for you. I got a lot of stuff in my intestines and it’s not fortitude, it’s fartitude. You ever smelled chitterlings being cooked?

We were in class one day, talking about different foods you can get in various cultures. A kid says, “Coach Carter, have you ever ate any chitterlings? I don’t like them. They smell like crap when my granny cooks them.”

Me: Duh, you’re a genius! Do you know what is inside the intestines of an animal?

He says, “No Coach Carter. What?”

Me: Poop! You nut cake. Your house smells like crap because your granny is cooking poop pipes for dinner. Yeah! That’s what I said, intestines are the pipes for poop.

Now, where was I? Oh yeah. Jimmy’s affliction. We were in the locker room one day after school and Jimmy was letting them rip. Bang! Boom! Splatter! 

Me: Hey Jimmy? That one sounds like it might have some splatter going on and slippage. 

Jimmy: Yeah Coach. Sorry about that. My mom made some good beans last night and they’re kicking in. Been farting all day. I let a good one in Ms. Caldwell‘s class. She just looked at me and said, “Now Jimmy, mind your manners. I don’t want to have to send you to ISS or tell Coach Carter.” Man. Coach, I thought, what do you mean tell Coach Carter? He farts more than all of us put together.”

Everybody starts laughing in the locker room.

Will: Oh man, Jimmy was that you? You just crapped in your shorts!

Jimmy: You mean like that Coach? I just slipped one out on Will.

 Chris “Doughboy” Harwood: Gosh, Jimmy, you stink!

I don’t need to tell you why Chris is called Doughboy. Figure it out!

Me: Yeah, Jimmy, you are awfully stinky today. Stinky? Hey. I’m going to call you “Stinky” from now on.

 Jimmy: Hey, I love it! I’m “Stinky” from now on fellas.

So, I go into Stinky’s room in the dorm.

Me: Hey, Stinky? Where is the scuba gear you brought? 

Stinky: It’s in the closet, why? 

Me: How about putting that junk on and let’s scare the crap out of those kids in the lobby? 

Stinky: Heck yeah!

Me: Let’s walk up to the lobby door first and I’ll tell you what I want you to do. 

So, Stinky puts on his gear, big old flippers, a scuba mask and he puts his shorts on and pulls them up to his boobs.

Stinky: OK, Coach. I’m ready to go. 

Now, Stinky is 13 years old. He’s 5ft 10 and weighs about 180 pound. He’s just a goofy, farting good ole boy. He can shuffle his feet like an old man when he is walking. 

Me: Ok, now see those guys sitting out at those tables? 

Stinky: Yeah. 

I tell him what I want him to do. 

Stinky: Oh man! Coach, this will be great. 

While Stinky gets his gear on, I go and find Will. He is a good golfer for me. He will play number one for me his 8th grade year. He has great leadership skills and the kind of smart ass personality that matches well with mine. 

The next basketball season, he was my “hitman” on the basketball team. He would go in to get a rebound or two. His main job was to put the “kibosh” on somebody. And his last hurrah on the court was in the last minute of his last game in the tournament. He was pressing the ball in the back court and practically tackled the guy with the ball. He was a full body contact basketball player.  Now, Will is built like a football player. Thick, strong 5 ft 9 about 190. He was slow, but made up for it by not being able to jump either.

The ref, Pete Caldwell, blows the whistle and yells out, “Intentional foul! Two shots!”

Me: Intentional foul? Come on Pete. You know he can’t control that big body once it gets going in a certain direction. He didn’t mean to hit that guy. 

Will looks at me and grins. How is that coach?

Will told me the next day at school, our principal, a former football and wrestling coach, David Cowan, came up to him and told him, “Hamill, you play my kind of basketball, buddy . It’s called football!”

Me: Hey Will? When Stinky walks out into the lobby to scare those guys, I want you to walk out there with me. Grab Stinky and help me get him back to the dorm.

Will: You got it!

Stinky: Hey Coach! I’m ready. 

Oh man, he looks great. He has on plaid swim trunks pulled up to his boobs. No shirt, swim goggles and big, huge flippers on his feet.

Me: Holy cow! Stinky, man, that looks great.

Stinky: Yeah Coach. I’m glad I brought this. I knew I would need this stuff. 

Stinky slings the doors open, waddles out with his flippers.

Stinky: Hey fellers! Who wants to go swimmin with me?

Will and I are watching through the door. I swear this one kid‘s eyes pop out of his head. He has just taken a bite of his pizza and his mouth falls open so wide his bite fell out of his mouth. Those guys started looking at each other.

Stinky: Come on, who’s gonna go swimmin with me? 

Me: Ok Will. It’s time. 

We sling the doors open. 

Me: Stinky! What are you doing out here? 

Stinky: Ah Coach. I ain’t doing nothing, but asking these here fellers to go for a swim with me.

Me: Darn it! I told you to stay in your room and rest. We got a game to go to soon. We ain”t got time to go swimming.

Stinky: I ain’t going back to my room. I’m going swimmin! 

Me: No you aren’t, Stinky. Now, I said it’s time to go rest. Now, come on!

Stinky: I ain’t going to my room!

Me: Alright then. Will and I are going to take you then. 

We walk up to him and grab him by the arms. 

Stinky: Let me go! Let me go!

I can see the guys at the table out of the corner of my eyes and they are petrified.

Will: I got him, Coach! Don’t worry. He ain’t gonna get loose!

Stinky: Stop it! Turn me loose! I’m going swimmin! 

 We drag him back to the dorm as Stinky kicks and hollers the whole way.

By now, all the other guys on our team know what’s going on and they are standing at the doors watching.

They are all laughing. I thought it was hilarious. 

Stinky: Did I do good, Coach? Did I do good? 

Me: Oh man! That was great! I guess I better go out there and tell the guys we were just kidding. 

I slung the door open. What the heck? Where is everybody? Holy cow! The pizza boxes were full of pizza. Bottles of Coke sitting out there, but not a kid in sight. Oh my goodness, we scared those kids so bad they took off. I go back in the dorm.

Stinky: What did they say, Coach?  They think it was funny? 

Me: Stinky, you scared them to death. They’re all gone. You know what that means, don’t you fellas? 

Somebody says, “No. What Coach?”

Me: Free pizza!

Will: Coach! Now, we’re having fun!